I’m sitting alone in a hotel about thirty-five minutes from the property Gary and I just bought. We came up here yesterday (Monday) to continue clearing the lot, but unfortunately Gary is out there doing it on his own. I somehow managed to end up injuring myself again; this time a sprained ankle, as well as a torn ligament in my thumb – yeah, I know – who would have thought you could do that to a thumb?!

Needless to say, I’m beating myself up because Gary is out there, by himself, doing a job we should be doing together. I’m so angry at myself for injuring myself (again)! I was, and still am, embarrassed to tell anyone I was at the walk-in clinic having x-rays – again. I have at least two injuries a year and although a specialist won’t treat you unless you do have an injury, I still imagine that people think that I make them up.

..but back to what I was saying. We’re here and it’s a lovely little hotel. From what I can see, they only have eight rooms, but the rooms are more like mini apartments and they are so comfortable and welcoming.

When we first got here, we parked the car and headed for the front door – it was so welcoming. Gary opened the door and we both walked into an empty; although inviting lobby. We walked up to the front desk and waited for a few moments before looking for a bell to ring.

Had we worn, or brought the eye glasses we both needed because of age related vision changes, we would have seen the note on the door with our names on it, explaining what we were supposed to so. Instead we glanced at each other quizzically and looked around the room.

It was homey and comfortable looking. There were shelves of books and DVD’s everywhere and the main accents were figures, or paintings of elephants.

After waiting a couple of minutes, Gary went back to the car to got his glasses and that was when we found out it was self check in. I was a little un-nerved that we were on our own, and that the front door was unlocked (and not being monitored!) until the wee hours of the morning, but we were there. All the other hotels in the area were booked and it was too late to drive home.

I had reserved through a travel site instead of going through the hotels website, and would have known about their “open-door” policy ahead of time and probably not booked it, but it was what it was.

We headed up to our room, entered the code; it was key-less entry, and entered one of the most comfortable hotel rooms/suites I’d ever been in. Prior to opening the door, all I could think about was the fact that it was key-less entry and that it was the “last four digits of the phone number of the person that reserved the room.”

That meant there were only two options that the code could be – mine or Gary’s. What if someone was following me; someone that was out to hurt me?! The instructions were right there on the front door and anyone could enter the room in the middle of the night…

I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on my surroundings and how comfortable it felt to me. I have this weird spidey-sense …I’m not sure how to describe it? It’s like I can sense, or feel the energy in the room and I can feel that things are going to be okay (or not) and I know this all might sound weird, but it’s an instinct I’ve learned to trust over the years so I entered the room with an open mind.

Gary and I unpacked and then we sat and had a glass of wine. I could see he was exhausted and needed to crash, but he was staying up to make sure I was comfortable with my surroundings and able to get some sleep. I assured him more than once that I was okay, so he kissed me and went to bed.

…I was not okay.

All I could think about was the fact that the front door was open to the world and my code was the last four digits of the cell number that I’ve had for decades! I was way too freaked out to sleep and ended up chatting with my social media family and reading their blogs; well into the wee hours of the morning.

Around two in the morning, I decided it was time to try and get some sleep, so I ate my cannabis cupcake, took a couple puffs off a joint, then curled into bed beside my man.

The next thing I knew the sun was shining and my man was kissing me on the cheek and saying good-bye. I told him I loved him, he told me he loved me back and then he was heading out the door…

Immediately my mind started to race and all I could think about was the damn code for the door! I got up, put the coffee on and opened the curtains. For the most part, I felt comfortable with the room, so I decided to call the owners and ask them if they would change the code for me; that way I could stop stressing over it.

I dialed the number, the phone rang a couple of times and then a pleasant voice on the other end of the phone said, “hello?” I asked if it was Rob (the owner), then I introduced myself. I told him I had PTSD, shared a bit of my story, and explained that I was worried about the code being the last four digits of my phone number. Within a half hour there was a knock at my door and when I asked who it was, a voice said, “It’s Rob.”

I hesitated for a minute, then reminded myself that one of the owner’s names was Rob and that I’d called him earlier. When I opened the door, I saw this tall man with a kind face, standing there smiling. He said he was there to change the code for the key-less entry, but he wanted to introduce himself first and let me know he was there, so that he didn’t startle me when he started playing with the door handle.

Wow – someone that got me and they didn’t know me from Adam! So, I decided to get really courageous and I told Rob that I used cannabis for medical reasons and asked if there were somewhere I could smoke it? He said there were chairs and tables in the backyard, and to make myself at home.

No stigma - none at all! It seems like there really are people out there that understand about mental illness and I’ve been lucky enough to find two of them not far from where we’re building a house. Plus, we’ve found a place to stay where I feel comfortable until we get our house built, and that is extremely important to myself, as well as being important to Gary.

; I'm Still Here!

; I'm Still Here, is a guide to living with and surviving PTSD - post traumatic stress disorder. It is a true story written by a survivor describing the symptoms, triggers and treatments that are currently available.

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